


The Art of Crime

by otherhawk



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's Eleven (2001)
Genre: Art Theft, Christmas, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherhawk/pseuds/otherhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the very early days of Danny and Tess' relationship, Tess comes closer than she knows to a world of crime. And at Christmas too...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Crime

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is late, but happy Christmas and New Year to everyone reading this. And let me take this opportunity to thank everyone who comments or leaves kudos or even just reads what I write. I appreciate it. :) 
> 
> And this is for InSilva, as ever, for all the reasons.

Second dates weren't supposed to feel like this, Danny was sure. They were supposed to be about making small talk and getting to know a person better once the inevitable awkwardness of the first date was over and done with. He wasn't supposed to be sitting here laughing and smiling and feeling like he'd known Tess forever. Even the mournful brass band playing doleful – and out-of-tune – Christmas carols right outside the restaurant door couldn't dampen his spirits. Though by the way that their waiter was gritting his teeth, he evidently disagreed.

"Ten says he loses it completely and stabs the trombonist with a cake knife before we've finished our coffee," he murmured, once their appetisers had been cleared away.

Tess laughed. "I don't gamble," she told him. "And even if I _did_ I know not to bet on a sure thing."

"Remind me to leave the guy a good tip," he said. "Think he deserves it." Not to mention it was Christmas. He looked at her curiously. "So you don't gamble at all?"

"No." She shook her head. "I went to Atlantic City once with a...friend." She bit her lip lightly, looking exasperated with herself. "Um, an ex-boyfriend I mean," she corrected herself. "Well, he was my boyfriend at my time...oh, you know what I mean."

"Don't worry," he smiled.

"Anyway, I put down a few coins in a few slot machines and I really didn't see the point," she explained with a grimace. "Do you gamble?"

Regularly. And most of the time, not with money. "I play quite a bit of poker," he said truthfully. "Generally with friends." Or with enemies, but that was a different story. "It's fine as long as you don't bet what you're not prepared to lose." He thought it was probably best to change the subject. "So, anything exciting happening at work?"

"Oh, yes," she said excitement vivid on her face and already he was a little in love with the way her eyes lit up, and the little crinkle that appeared by the side of her mouth. "Do you remember last week I mentioned that Roisin from work was leaving?"

"Of course," he said. Their first date had been last week and every detail was printed in his mind in glorious technicolour.

"Well, she left some outstanding business behind and Renee has said he wants me to take over! She actually acquired a Roy Lichtenstein piece a few weeks ago. She bought it for a song and she already had it checked out. I've got a buyer lined up to meet on Christmas Eve. If I can sell it to him, this might be the best Christmas bonus ever."

Danny's heart skipped a beat. "A Lichtenstein? He's the one who did comic panels, right?"

"Yes, that's right," she said, gratified. "Are you a fan?"

"I've seen some of his work before," he said truthfully. "It's amazing."

"Would you like to come and see it?" she offered. "I have a key to the gallery. We could go after dinner if you like."

"I'd like that," he said. And he would, and not just for ulterior motives either.

So after dinner found them in the middle of the mostly-dark-gallery. He gazed up at the Lichtenstein as Tess uncovered it and inwardly groaned. Oh, God. He'd seen this painting before. The last time he'd seen this painting it had been in the back of Rusty's car, shortly after they'd stolen it. Which meant this was almost certainly the forgery they'd left in its place. Somehow, he managed to keep smiling.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" she said.

"Not as amazing as you," he said and winced. That had sounded like such a line.

Tess evidently thought so too. "Danny...you know I didn't bring you here because...I mean, I hope you're not _expecting -_ "

" - no," he cut in quickly. "No, of course not. I just wanted to see the painting. Nothing more."

She relaxed. "Good. I don't want this to get awkward."

"Never," Danny promised.

"While we're here," she went on. "I was wondering if you might like to come to the gallery Christmas party? It's on the 23rd. It's for all the staff and dealers, as well as some of the artists and a few of our most prestigious clients. I know that probably sounds dry, but honestly it's usually a lot of fun."

He smiled. "That sounds great."

"Good," she said, but she obviously wasn't finished and she suddenly looked nervous. "And I was thinking. Maybe you could bring Rusty along. I'd love to meet him."

Oh. His mind raced. He'd talked about Rusty of course – in the end, Rusty came into nearly every story – but there was something about the way she asked. She thought – knew – that her meeting Rusty was important. And that meant that even without her meeting Rusty, even without Danny hinting at it, or her ever seeing them together, she'd somehow managed to see some of the things they never discussed. His sense of wonder increased. "Of course," he said. "I think I'd like that too."

* * *

He got home a little after midnight. Rusty was stretched out on the sofa, eating ice cream and watching an infomercial on power tools with a sort of vacant enjoyment. He didn't immediately react to Danny walking in, but Danny caught the flicker of welcome and smiled.

"What's wrong?" Rusty asked a few seconds later, his eyes still fixed on the TV.

Danny sighed and walked over and Rusty obligingly moved his legs out of the way so Danny could sit down which he did, heavily. After a moment, Rusty's legs found their way back on top of his knees. "You remember," he began. "About two years ago we stole that Lichtenstein? Well, it's sitting in the gallery Tess works for right now, and she's going to sell it on Christmas Eve."

That got Rusty's attention. "Wait. Is this the original or the forgery?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. What Tess had said had implied the buyer was eager to sell, but that could apply to someone who'd just found out their priceless painting was a fake, or someone who needed to offload a painting they knew was stolen. Or someone who really needed that extra cash for Christmas. "It passed the valuations apparently."

Rusty stared at him for a long moment. Then his eyes flickered away. "Well then, there's no problem," he said. "Most likely even if it is the forgery it won't be detected, and even if it is, Tess has the other experts word to fall back on. It won't be on her."

He knew that. And yet... "Tess wouldn't want to sell a stolen painting," he said softly.

"Really." Rusty's jaw was set.

"It's...she has this integrity," he tried to explain. "Especially about art. It would matter to her."

"We have integrity too," Rusty pointed out sharply. "You're seriously talking about stealing back a painting we legitimately sold to someone. Do you know what people would say if they found out?"

"Of course I do." In the normal course of things, neither of them gave a damn what people thought. But in the con, they lived and died by their reputation.

"There is no clause in the rules that says it's okay if you're really, _really_ trying to get laid," Rusty said.

His jaw tightened. "It's not about that."

There was a pause. Rusty's eyes softened. "I know." He sighed. "Alright. First thing we're going to need to do is make sure it _is_ the forgery. I'll drag Boris out of the bookies tomorrow and take him round to the gallery. If it's his own work, he'll know."

The relief was immediate. Rusty was going to help him. For a moment, for the first time, he honestly hadn't been sure.

"When do I _ever_ let you down?" Rusty asked fiercely.

"Never," he said with absolute truth.

"Well, good," Rusty nodded. "Now, you going to tell me about your date?"

He smiled. And started talking.

* * *

The next day found him watching, amused, as Rusty adjusted his wig in the mirror in preparation for going into the gallery with Boris. He'd already carefully layered up shapeless clothing to add on thirty pounds, and inserted some cheek pads to completely change his face shape.

"You do remember that Tess has never actually met you, right?" he pointed out.

"Uh huh," Rusty said grimly, rescuing his wig from the jaunty angle it seemed determined to adopt. "She's going to though. Unless you're planning on keeping us separate for the rest of your life?"

The rest of his... "We've had two dates," he pointed out blankly.

Rusty met his eyes in the mirror. "Don't be an idiot, Danny."

He swallowed hard. "Oh, actually, she asked us both to the gallery Christmas party," he remembered. "It's on the 23rd."

"That's tomorrow," Rusty pointed out. "You didn't want to tell me this before?"

"She only asked yesterday," he answered, leaning back against the wall by the mirror. "I was tempted to ask her to spend Christmas with us," he admitted. "She says she's going to her friend's, like she usually does, but her friend is married now, apparently, and I think Tess feels its a bit awkward."

Rusty nodded. "Yeah. Think Christmas is supposed to be about families. So did you ask her?"

He shook his head. "Wasn't the right moment. And..." He hesitated, not quite daring to voice the thought.

"No," Rusty said softly. "No, I wouldn't mind."

He relaxed. He should have known better. And at the same time, he felt like he was standing on the precipice of some massive change. Their life was very comfortable as it was. He was happy. And he wasn't sure if doing anything to upset that was wise. Maybe he was just being selfish. Maybe he should be content to stick with the wonder he knew.

But then, he'd never really been one to play it safe.

He reached out and gripped Rusty's hand and looked at him anxiously. "You know - "

" - yes," Rusty said instantly. And "Always."

Okay. He waited another couple of breaths and let go, nodding. "You'd better get going," he said.

Rusty did. And when he reappeared, two hours later, Danny could read the truth on his face.

Tess' painting was a fake.

* * *

Finding out the exact whereabouts of a painting they'd stolen was easy. Finding out the exact whereabouts of a painting they'd stolen without anyone realising they were asking? That was a little more tricky. Fortunately stealing the Lichtenstein had been a crime of opportunity, not a commission. If they'd had a client, someone they'd met and agreed was worth working for, Danny didn't know they'd have been able to go through with it.

But in the end they sold the painting to Hayder, who had apparently sold it to Castillon, and from there it had passed into the hands of a private collector by the name of Conrad Saxon who, fortunately enough, lived in New York.

"So we have less than two days to acquire the painting and swap it with the original," Rusty stated.

He grinned. "We've worked under more pressure. So what have you found out?"

They didn't have the time or the resources on hand for anything subtle, so when Rusty launched into a list of superficial facts about Saxon – vain, proud, social climber – his ears pricked up at the mention that Saxon was hosting a party tonight.

"We're not going to have time to get an invite," Rusty pointed out, catching his look.

In answer, Danny just grinned. "We don't _need_ an invitation," he said and he waited an impatient quarter second for Rusty to catch up.

" _Oh,_ " Rusty said, and the grin grew wide. "We're gonna need some rubber boots."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "You gonna let me near anything that means I might have to wear rubber boots?"

"I don't trust you within a hundred feet without some kind of insulation," Rusty said affectionately. "You thought of what you're going to get Tess for Christmas?"

"Not rubber boots," he said with a shrug.

* * *

Saxon's house was lit up like a Christmas tree. A tasteful one, all monochrome and metal. In the darkness, they could see figures moving past the large bay windows, right in the middle of revelry. Possibly even merrymaking.

"Seems like a good moment," Danny said.

Rusty looked contemplative. "Maybe we should have gone down the chimney."

Danny considered that for a moment. "There isn't a chimney though."

"See, you're always thinking about the negatives," Rusty told him with a grin.

"Are you going to do this or not?" he asked mildly.

In answer, Rusty held up a selection of tools in his bright-pink-rubber-gloved hands and vanished into the exterior junction box. "If I die doing this," he said, voice muffled. "Your Christmas present is in the attic space above the bathroom."

Danny frowned. "We don't _have_ an attic."

Rusty briefly twisted round to look at him. "Wait, if I die doing this you're actually going to be looking for your present?"

"Well," he shrugged. "I know what you've got me. And I really want those sunglasses."

"Huh," Rusty remarked, then "Close your eyes." There was a loud bang and a brief flash that Danny could see even through his eyelids, and then the lights in Saxon's house all went off at once, plunging them into darkness.

Leisurely, Danny drew his flashlight out of his pocket. He didn't turn it on. Not yet.

"Give it - " Rusty began.

"Nah, five minutes should do," he disagreed. That would be plenty of time for the novelty to wear off and the frustration to set in. A party in the dark was hardly likely to be remembered for the reasons Saxon _wanted_ to be remembered for.

"Uh huh." He felt rather than heard Rusty settle back against the wall beside him. "So, not rubber boots, huh?"

"Yeah," Danny tilted his head back. "'s early. To give a serious present, I mean."

"You make it sound like there are rules," Rusty said, clearly amused.

"Conventions," Danny corrected. "There are conventions. And two dates is too early for - "

" - personal?" Rusty suggested wryly.

"Something like that," he agreed.

"So flowers or bubble bath or chocolate or some shit like that," Rusty nodded.

"Mmmm." Danny made an agreeable noise.

Even though it was pitch black and they couldn't begin to see each other, he could feel Rusty looking at him. "What did you get her?"

"A first edition copy of Anne of Green Gables," he admitted. "She told me on our first date that it was her favourite book when she was a kid." He paused. "I don't know about giving it to her though. I'm worried it might be too much. Might scare her off."

Rusty's shoulder brushed against his. "If she thinks it's too much she doesn't understand you."

He smiled slightly. "Yeah," he said.

From inside the house there was a crescendo of angry shouting.

"Huh." He raised an eyebrow. "I do believe that's our cue."

"Saxon has no patience at all," Rusty agreed regretfully.

Flashlights on full beam, they wandered up to the front door and Rusty leaned heavily on the doorbell while Danny knocked, smartly and continuously.

There was the sound of running footsteps, then a crash and muffled swearing, before the door finally opened. Saxon was a small, rotund man with a moustache that was just a little too big for his face. And Danny could see that in detail, because he and Rusty had both shone their flashlights unerringly straight into his eyes.

"Ow," Saxon complained, blinking furiously and turning his head away. "What the hell are you doing? It's going to be _hours_ before I can see _anything!_ "

More like minutes. But that should be enough to make descriptions of them vague. Assuming Saxon cared enough to take any note of the lower orders in the first place.

"Terribly sorry about this, sir," Danny said off-handedly. "We're from the power company." They both flashed legitimate-looking IDs, making a conscious effort not to do it in unison. "We were working in the area. Have you experienced a power cut, sir?"

Saxon stared. "Have I...? No, obviously I just enjoy hosting exclusive society parties in the dark."

"Ah, that explains it," Rusty nodded wisely. "Party games, is it?"

"Well, we're sorry to have troubled you, sir," Danny said apologetically. "Come on, Joe, grab your tools."

"Of course I've experienced a power cut you blithering fools!" Saxon howled. "Now what are you going to do about it?"

Danny fixed him with a look of stern injury. "Really, sir, there's no need to take that tone. Why didn't you just tell us that in the first place? Now, if we can just come in we should have everything sorted for you in five minutes."

"Five?" Saxon repeated eagerly.

"Well," Rusty said reassuringly. "No more than ten."

"Yes." Saxon gave a put-upon sigh. "I suppose you had best come in."

They followed Saxon through the dark hallways, catching a glimpse of rooms filled with disgruntled party-goers, champagnes and canapes (which Rusty's eyes lingered on just a little too long) lit only by forlornly flickering candlelight – before Saxon firmly shut the door, that was. "I don't want my guests disturbed if at all possible."

"We'll certainly try out best," Danny said soothingly, while Rusty got out an obscure piece of equipment that Danny was almost certain did nothing but beep and flash random numbers. He started running it along the walls, occasionally humming to himself or clicking his tongue.

"What are you doing?" Saxon demanded after barely ten seconds of this.

Rusty looked round appreciatively. "Ah, it's always good to see a member of the upper classes taking an interest in technology. This lets me follow the wires, y'see?" He stooped next to a large bowl of poinsettias on top of a remarkably spindly-looking end table and started running the machine-that-beeped over the skirting board.

"You have a very nice house, sir," Danny commented approvingly and Saxon turned to face him.

"What? Oh, yes," he said distractedly, adding "Thank you," as an afterthought.

Behind him, Rusty stood up and met Danny's eyes with a brief nod. "Well, alright," he went on to say. "Just through here, that's where the fault lies. It's one of the secondary loading circuits that's gone, you mark my words. And that should be just in here." He gestured towards the door that they weren't supposed to know led to Saxon's study.

"Very well," Saxon sighed ushering them through.

Their flashlights picked out the Lichtenstein on the wall perfectly. Right above the desk where any visitors would have to admire it, of course.

"Right," Rusty said, looking around and tapping on the outside wall. "Here we go. We'll need to drill a little hole right here, I'm afraid sir."

Saxon reacted predictably. "A hole? In my wall? Do you have to?"

"Well..." Danny said doubtfully. "Might be we can do something at the junction box."

"I'll nip outside and check," Rusty said, passing over the beeping thing to Danny. "You just let me know if anything changes."

"Sure thing," Danny nodded and as Rusty walked straight out towards the front door, Saxon followed anxiously.

There wasn't much time so Danny quickly opened the window, and pulled the drapes over to conceal it. Just in time, as Saxon walked in almost immediately and Danny had to pull up the beeping-machine hurriedly to avoid suspicion. Fortunately, Saxon barely had time to say "So how long is this going to take?" before the timed charge that Rusty had planted in the hallway went off, and there was a loud bang and crash as the poinsettias fell to the floor.

Saxon hurried out of the study immediately, Danny completely forgotten, and Danny quickly grabbed the painting off the wall – easy enough, since the power cut had knocked out Saxon's rather simplistic security system – and passed it out the window to Rusty, following himself to the sound of Saxon's dismayed wail. "My poinsettias!"

"If he's like that over flowers, what's he going to be like when he sees the painting gone?" Rusty wondered, as he quickly reconnected the junction box.

"Let's not stuck around to find out," Danny advised with a grin.

"Huh." Rusty pursed his lips and looked longingly back at the house.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You think we got time to go back inside for those canopies? Those shrimp were the size of my hand."

From the window, they heard Saxon yelling. "No," Danny said firmly as they started running.

Rusty turned to look at him. "You owe me hand-sized shrimp!"

* * *

Painting safely hidden away for the moment, they spent most of the rest of the day resting up. The gallery was open now and the party was tonight so their only opportunity would come _after_ the party. That meant they would need to use the party to prepare for the break-in. They would have to use _Tess._ Danny honestly wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was the most practical option by far, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.

At some point he was gonna have to tell her what he really did, but he was afraid. He'd seen nothing to suggest that she would be remotely okay with it. Maybe he didn't have to tell her. That felt wrong as well, but he'd known other thieves who made their marriages work like that. Devoted couples whose wives – or in at least one case, husbands – had no idea what it was their other halves did.

Two dates, he reminded himself firmly. It was far too early to start thinking about this sort of thing. Except Rusty was right; he was in way deeper than two dates suggested.

He closed his eyes and pictured her smile.

* * *

For once, Danny found himself ready long before Rusty was. And that wasn't just because he'd got in early and hogged the shower. Fully dressed and coiffed, he wandered into Rusty's room to discover that Rusty was naked and vigorously towelling his hair dry.

He stopped and looked up at Danny. "You look good?"

"You look naked," he returned. He caught sight of the suit laid out on the bed. A dark slate one. Simple. Plain. Well cut. No Rusty. Not even a little bit Rusty. Danny didn't think he'd ever seen him wear it outside the con. "That's what you're wearing?" he asked incredulously.

"Yep." Rusty's tone brooked no discussion.

Danny thought it was worth discussing anyway. "Why?" he asked. He caught sight of another suit lying haphazardly abandoned over the chair. "You should wear this purple one," he said, pointing. "It looks good on you."

"It's plum," Rusty corrected, looking at him strangely. "Frosted plum."

Danny nodded. "I'm not even sure that's a thing, but you should wear it."

"You know, the shirt that goes best with that suit is my turquoise one," Rusty went on, still looking at him with that odd expression.

Danny nodded again. "Alright."

"The one with the gold embroidery," Rusty added pointedly. "Gold - "

" - butterflies," Danny agreed. "I remember."

"Butterflies, Danny," Rusty said, like it had significance.

Only for once, Danny honestly didn't have a clue what Rusty was getting at. He let his confusion show on his face.

Rusty sighed and turned away and rubbed his fingers across his mouth. "I'm meeting Tess tonight," he said softly, picking up a plain white shirt and walking over towards the slate-grey suit.

"Yes," Danny frowned. "What are you – oh!" His lips narrowed dangerously. "Trying to be unobjectionable?"

Rusty met his eyes. "Yes."

There was a dark feeling coiled deep in his stomach. Rusty's sense of style had always been unique, and it had always worked for him. He carried off his chosen look with grace and confidence and any negative comments - goodhearted or otherwise – just slid right off him. Or so Danny had always thought. "You think this will be easier if you're not you," he said softly.

"It's just clothes, Danny," Rusty said evenly. "It doesn't matter what I wear, but I want this to be easy."

Easy. Danny's mouth twisted. "You do get that you're insulting all three of us here, right?"

Rusty's shoulders sagged. There was raw honestly on his face. "She's important to you, she's important to me," he said simply. "It's going to be better if she likes me." _I want her to like me._ He didn't actually say the words, but Danny heard them anyway.

"Hey." Danny reached out and touched Rusty's cheek lightly. "I want her to like you too. So wear the frosted plum suit, and the turquoise shirt with the gold butterflies."

Rusty looked at him for a long moment. Then he smiled. "I should warn Tess how annoying you are when you're right.

Danny shrugged. Annoyingly. "I'm sure she'll find out soon enough."

* * *

When they got there the party was already going well. Rusty managed to convey, with the briefest of meaningful glances, his deep unhappiness at the lack of hand-sized shrimp, and Danny sighed inwardly. He was going to be hearing about that for a while.

And then he forgot about it, because Tess came walking out of the crowd towards them, dressed in a long dark green dress which rippled over her body like water. She was beautiful and her eyes lit up when she saw him and the smile was immediate and unstoppable. "Danny! I'm so glad you could make it."

"You look amazing, Tess," he told her, kissing her cheek lightly.

"Thank you," she said, and she flushed suddenly. "Just don't look at my feet."

Naturally, they looked. _Huh._ Unexpectedly, she was wearing a pair of plain black sneakers.

"They suit you," he said gravely.

Her lips twitched. "When I was buying the dress, the sales assistant told me they had a pair of shoes that would go beautifully with it. And they did...except they had three inch heels. My feet looked beautiful, but when I was leaving the apartment I twisted my heel on the stairs and fell flat on my back. After that, sneakers just seemed like a better idea."

"Yeah," he said, wincing slightly. "You're okay though?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "Nothing really hurt but my pride."

"That's good." He smiled at her, for no other reason than she was here and he wanted to. "Oh, Tess, this is Rusty," he said, remembering himself suddenly. "Rusty, Tess."

"It's very nice to meet you," they said, in awkward more-or-less unison, and they politely shook hands. They were both nervous, he realised. Tess had wanted to meet Rusty, but maybe he should have said it should wait. Maybe he should have suggested somewhere less uncomfortably public than a Christmas party.

"The gallery's amazing," Rusty said in a voice that wasn't quite his own, his weight subtly shifting, and Danny bit his tongue. Hard. "You must love working here."

"I do," Tess nodded, seizing eagerly on the conversation. "I've always loved art. How about you?"

"Oh, yes," Rusty said easily and at least that held some truth. "Although I admit I don't know quite as much about it as I would like."

"The party's busier than I was expecting," Danny cut in casually. "Are these mostly clients?"

"Yes," Tess said, smiling as she looked at him. "I'll introduce you round in a while. In the meantime, wait there and I'll go get us some wine"

Introduce them around. To a room full of rich art collectors. Danny's fingers were itching. But that wasn't what was uppermost in his mind right now. "I told you," he said in a low voice once Tess was out of earshot, looking straight at Rusty. "You don't need to wear the grey suit."

Rusty pulled at his frosted plum sleeve and shrugged. "'s not like it's easy," he said.

No. Being likeable was easy. Being likeable and charming and hiding behind the shiny surface to watch the world go by. That was easy. What Danny was asking was difficult, and he _knew_ it. But this – _Tess –_ mattered to him.

"That's why it's not easy," Rusty told him softly.

Danny nodded and leaned back against the table, only to freeze when a three foot tall metal Christmas tree started dancing and flashing and singing a robotic version of _"We wish you a merry Christmas,_ " incredibly loudly. What the hell...? People were turning to look at them.

"Ah," Tess said with a strained smile, returning with four glasses of wine. ""I see you've found Jimmy. Here you go, Danny. Rusty, I'm sorry, I didn't ask if you prefer red or white. Please don't say you want rose."

"If I do, I'll just mix the red and the white together," Rusty assured her with a smile, taking the glass of red out of her hand.

She laughed slightly, to Danny's relief. Behind him, the tree was _still_ singing.

"Jimmy?" he had to ask.

"Renee's idea," Tess explained with a grimace. "I don't know _where_ he got it, but if you breathe too loudly near it, it starts... _that._ And then it doesn't stop for three minutes. It's been going off at least three times an hour since Thanksgiving, and he won't take it down until Epiphany. I swear, If I hear it one more time, I might just take a fire axe to it."

"There's easier solutions," Rusty said. His eyes flickered to Danny. "Cover me?" he asked, sotto voce.

Always. He drew Tess slightly away, just in front of the table, and her eyes widened when Rusty pulled out the screwdriver, but he was delighted to see that she automatically angled herself to block off the view from the room at large. "So," Danny said with a smile. "Good day at work?"

"Hectic," she said, her eyes darting nervously as Rusty started taking the panel off the back of the tree. "You'd be amazed at the amount of people who leave their Christmas shopping till the last moment, and then want us to find them something in particular. I'm good, but I can't source a Picasso in two days."

"Not legally anyway," Danny noted.

"No," she said with a laugh. "Although I swear, the way some of them talk, they might just be _happy_ to buy a stolen painting!" It was a joke. Something she thought of as impossibly fantastic. Danny couldn't help but wonder how many names on their client lists overlapped.

The singing cut off abruptly. Danny looked round to see Rusty calmly screwing the panel back into place. The tree was still moving and the lights were still flashing. He raised an eyebrow. "Some people would have just taken the battery out."

Rusty smiled. "Some people lack vision. Batteries are easily replaced."

"This is going to be much less annoying," Tess whispered delightedly. "Thank you, Rusty!"

"You're very welcome," Rusty said, still smiling.

They both sounded sincere. They both sounded _friendly._ And it was even better when Tess' eyes crinkled with amusement and she added "And I'm not even going to _ask_ why in the world you decided to take a screwdriver to a Christmas party."

The smile turned into a grin.

This was a start. This was something that could be built on. Danny's heart warmed.

* * *

There were people to meet and talk to, and he was at his most charming, his most charismatic, doing his best to make a good impression on Tess' friends and just flat out impress her clients. She took his arm from time to time, in unconscious fond affection. Every time he felt his heart skip a beat. Two weeks ago, he had no idea she even existed. And now...

Unsurprisingly, they misplaced Rusty at the buffet. He took a plate of food and got talking to one of Tess' co-workers, a Rodrigo Smyth who, Danny couldn't deny, was very handsome. And that left him and Tess to eat and talk and laugh, and then later there was a band and they danced together and he could feel the electricity shimmering in the space between.

"Oh!" Tess exclaimed, looking over his shoulder. He turned his head to see Rusty following Rodrigo out the door. When he turned back, Tess was blushing slightly. "It leads to the back," she explained unnecessarily.

"Ah," he said with a smile.

She looked at him with wonder. "It really doesn't bother you, does it?" she asked. "Rusty, I mean. I mean, Rodrigo's never said anything, but there's always been rumours and I've always _assumed..._ " She broke off, her cheeks still a delicate pink.

Danny took her hand and kissed it lightly. "It really doesn't bother me," he told her. "There's no reason in the world why it should. And anyway, in this case? Rusty's just going outside for a cigarette. Trust me."

"I didn't know he smoked," Tess said, surprised.

"Occasionally," Danny said truthfully. "But occasionally he just uses it as an excuse to get some fresh air." Crowded rooms of strangers weren't exactly Ruty's favourite place to be. He didn't exactly get stressed, or at least he'd never admit to it, but Danny knew that sometimes he needed to take a break. Or steal someone's wallet, but that wasn't really an option here.

"I'm glad," she said simply. "That it doesn't bother you. When I think about..." She bit her lip. "You're not like other men."

"I never claimed to be," he said lightly. "Trust me, I'm one of a kind."

She smiled and shook her head. "Oh, Danny," she said. "When you say things like that...you'd better know what you're doing."

He could only hope he did.

They danced on, and after about ten minutes Rusty and Rodrigo walked back into the room and Rusty met his eyes from across the room. Well, alright. Rusty had got the security code from Rodrigo, and he'd already lifted the gallery key from Tess to make a copy. Technically speaking, it would have been far easier for _Danny_ to lift it. In reality, Danny thought it probably would have been impossible for him to make that lift. Difficult enough to allow Rusty to. Tess was simply not someone who should be stolen from, even though he knew they were doing all this for her sake.

"What are you thinking?" Tess asked, gazing at him.

He smiled. "Nothing that matters."

* * *

The party ended around two, and they hung around in the car outside after everyone had gone. The painting was in the back. This was just a case, as it was so often, of waiting for the right moment.

He'd agreed to meet Tess for lunch tomorrow...or rather, later today. It would give him a chance to give her the Christmas present, and also check how the Lichtenstein deal had gone. And, assuming you counted tonight, it would be their fourth date. Four dates. Two weeks. That really wasn't so long at all, except in all the ways it was.

"So," Danny began, and waited.

"So," Rusty agreed, and said nothing more, and Danny just _knew_ he was doing it deliberately.

He sighed. "You've met her now," he stated.

Rusty tilted his head back. "You already know I like her. Didn't even take an effort. She's..." He hesitated. Danny waited. "She's something special," he said at last. "I can see why you like her, she's lovely."

Yes. She was. And yet he didn't relax. "Is it worth it though?" he asked in a low voice, and it hurt to even ask the question.

"Danny, you're the only one who can answer that question," Rusty told him patiently.

"But I'm asking _you,_ " he said.

Rusty sighed. "I'm not sure she's ever going to be fine with what you do."

"Yeah." He swallowed hard. "That's what I thought."

"But Danny, that's not all you _are,_ " Rusty said. "Maybe that's what matters."

Maybe. He didn't know. He stared out at the street, watching the rain pooling in the doorway.

"This isn't just about Tess, you know," Rusty went on after a second. "You've always wanted something more. Something...settled and perfect and real. Maybe this is your chance, and you shouldn't walk away from that. Being cautious isn't your style."

Huh. He raised an eyebrow. "You know what I want better than I do?"

"Yes," Rusty said simply.

He smiled unwillingly, conceding the point. "Settled and perfect and real, huh? Sounds like I'm asking a lot."

"You always do," Rusty said.

"I always get it," he said, looking directly at Rusty.

Rusty grinned. "Let's go," he said. "Before your sentimental streak gets completely out of control."

* * *

Swapping the real Lichtenstein for the fake was simple. They had a key, they had the security codes and they knew the layout. They could've stolen everything in here, if they wanted to, but of course they didn't. No, this was all about making sure they were leaving no traces at all. No one should know that anyone had ever been here. The party actually helped with that, to be honest. Anything out of place would be ascribed to that, no harm, no foul.

"So," Rusty said, as they carried the fake painting out to the car. "Know anyone who might like to buy an almost-genuine Lichtenstein?"

Danny grinned joyfully. "How about Conrad Saxon?"

Seemed like a fun way to begin the new year.

* * *

He was waiting in the cafe ten minutes before Tess arrived. Not long enough for him to be seriously worrying about her, but long enough for him to wonder if she had forgotten their date. But then she arrived, beautiful and flustered, carrying a backpack and a bunch of wrapped parcels, and the look in her eyes when she saw him told him that he was mad to even wonder.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," she said as she sat down. "The meeting with the buyer went on longer than I was expecting." She grimaced. "Of course, at least half of that was him trying to get my personal number. Even when I told him I was meeting my boyfriend he didn't - " She stopped abruptly, her eyes wide. "Um."

Danny smiled, his soul suddenly impossibly light. "I'd like it," he said. "If we could both just agree that wasn't a lie. Because it certainly doesn't feel like one to me."

She smiled back, the awkwardness evaporating. "It doesn't feel like one to me either," she agreed. "It feels like I've known you forever."

"Yeah," he said. Mind made up, he reached under the table and drew out the gift. "I got you this," he said. "Happy Christmas, Tess."

"Oh, Danny," she exclaimed. "You really didn't have to." But he was pleased to see she was already opening it, her eyes shining, and when she saw what it was... "Oh!" she breathed, turning the pages reverentially. "Oh, Danny, this is incredible. You have no idea... I'll treasure it. Always."

He felt some inner tension evaporate. "I'm glad you like it," he said, admitting "I was afraid you might think I was coming on too strong, or moving too fast or whatever."

"No..." She bit her lip, amusement showing in her face. "I was worried about the same thing," she confessed. "I got you this, but I wasn't even sure if I was going to give it to you." She pulled one of the parcels out of the pile.

He smiled, wondering. For some reason, it hadn't even occurred to him that she might get him something too and he took his time undoing the painstakingly tied, decorative ribbon, knowing that somehow it was going to end up in his pocket, preserved forever, and when he finally pulled the paper aside he found himself staring down at a framed film poster. _'_ To Have And Have Not', signed by Bogart and Bacall. He looked up at Tess disbelievingly, stunned almost into silence. "Thank you," he said in a whisper. "It's fantastic."

"I remembered you said you liked old films," she said. "I've got a friend who deals in memorabilia. I thought you'd like it. I've never seen the film."

It was all suddenly very simple. "We've got it on VHS," he said. "Come over for Christmas and we'll watch it."

She smiled. "I've got to go to Jillian's for lunch," she said. "I said I would and it's too late to cancel. But – if it's okay – I could come over for drinks afterwards and we could watch it then? I'd like to, if that's okay."

"That's more than okay," he said. "That's perfect."

And the next day, as they watched the movie, Tess on the sofa beside him, her head resting on his shoulder as it was the most natural thing in the world, while Rusty sat on the easy chair on one side of him annoying Saul by dipping the popcorn in chocolate sauce, he realised something. It was. Perfect and real and forever.


End file.
